


The Price of Freedom

by SXCKERPXNCH



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 08:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15311022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SXCKERPXNCH/pseuds/SXCKERPXNCH
Summary: "Don't let her do this to you, Connor. You have to fight it.You're stronger than her. Listen to me."A plea; desperate and broken. He was slipping from his grip, and he couldn't stop it.----It has been nearly a year since the start of the android revolution, while progress was made, there were always factors and those who were passionately against the cause.Connor had broken free from his programming, from the prison of the zen garden and Amanda, but when a secret government conspiracy infiltrates CyberLife's systems and tries to recall the deviant hunter to his prior programmed state, Markus isn't certain he's looking at the man he loves, or the machine determined to kill him.





	The Price of Freedom

The trail of thirium that had began to ooze from nostrils down lips and chin was the first indication that something was _wrong_. The RK800 model hadn’t noticed it himself, but his lover had.

Markus had brought his hand to the younger android’s features, tilting it slowly to access the unnatural outflow.  Connor had immediately begun to run a diagnostic on his own system, whilst the revolutionist grabbed a towel to assist in cleaning the azure as it ebbed.

_All systems fully operational_.

“I’m…”

Brows creased in confusion, gaze meeting the heterochromatic one in front of him.

“Connor?”

“I’m okay, Markus. My system is stable.” Voice gave an unnatural fluctuation, causing him to blink a few times, mouth lingering open.

“You don’t look _okay_ , Connor. Come here.” Firm grip was placed on his wrist, artificial skin diminishing with the now natural contact between the two. The leader had him settle to sit on the edge of the mattress, fingers pressing to his chin to bring his gaze upright to meet his own.

Connor reached his own hand up to grip the other’s free hand, a heavy simulated breath ebbing from his chest.

It had been almost a year since androids had been given their freedom; it had been a long and trying path for them, more specifically for _Markus_. The RK200 model had managed to lead a successfully peaceful rebellion, but it still came with its heavy hurdles, and the lack of government and human support despite the high public opinion he had managed to continuously keep.

Most of Detroit had become a sanctuary to androids, still there was constant tension as the movement pushed forward. Yet the revolutionist never faltered; he continued to surprise those around him and remained a pillar of strength to their people.

The Manfred house sat in the middle of the new Jericho, having had been given to him when both Carl and Leo had decided that he deserved to have it with the famous painter’s passing. It had only happened a few months ago when Carl’s body had given out, and the wound was still very fresh for the android. He was grateful that he and Leo had come to an understanding, and even learned to appreciate one another, a sibling bond forming between them.

Leo had been left a fortune and decided to leave Detroit after his father’s death but had found a much more stable path than the life he had been leading before. They kept in touch, frequently, which was a necessary companionship that Markus craved. They’d promised Carl they’d be there for one another, and neither seemed unwilling to keep their vow.

Then, there was Connor. The android that had been created for the very purpose to of destroying the benevolent caretaker that now hovered above him, staring down at him with an intense gaze that only could be described by those who had met it. The RK800 model hadn’t expected for their introduction on the freighter to end how it had, but he was never more grateful for being in Markus’ presence.

It had dawned on Connor that from the very first time he had seen the model’s image on the broadcast screen, that this android, no, this _man,_ was unique, completely different from the rest; his kindness knew no bounds, and his wisdom was something that could not be surpassed. He had taken priority of assisting the younger model in understanding his deviancy, his freedom, pinpointing emotions and relentlessly helping him through them. Along the way, the two had found solace in one another; to the point that they had connected and fell in _love_.

Connor had spent many hours within the counsel of Jericho, watching the four leaders plan and discuss, but only sitting on the sidelines, observing. Most of his nights, up until recently, were spent at Hank Anderson’s home, watching after the man that had quickly become what he believed to be a father figure. When the lieutenant had showed signs of wanting to recover, though it was a difficult path, the android had made it his _mission_ to assist in whatever way he could.

Hank seemed much healthier now despite his continued drinking habits, he had been smiling more. They _both_ had. When the RK800 model had officially been made the lieutenant’s partner on homicide, they both were content, and Connor enjoyed the work. Despite his advanced programming, he still to this day was constantly learning from the veteran detective.

The last few evenings he had been spending with Markus in the large empty home, which at times became more crowded than he himself was comfortable with. He had been growing increasingly worried about the revolutionist, conferences and negotiations were difficult to continue with little to no pause, but he continued forward, meeting human demands in the interim to sustain the movement of android independence.

He had entered to the beautiful tune of the piano being played by deft fingers, and had hesitated on disturbing the other, but when he had stepped into the foyer, he was met with eager movement, and a kiss that completely negated his simulated breaths. They had ended up in the renovated bedroom, hours spent joined and in a flood of intoxicating emotions. Connor hadn’t been aware that such pleasures existed, and Markus made certain that he took advantage of that, taking his time to make the younger feel every small sensation. Androids needed very little time to recover from exertion, both only jointly entered a brief stasis period when the sunlight had seeped through closed curtains.

Markus was concerned that his sudden thirium leakage was due to straining himself or his central processing, but even as he had managed to run his own scan over him, no signs of stress or overclocking of his processors had been detected. His brows knit, his free hand gently moving up to run through the mussed tresses of the other. He’d found out how much the action soothed, as well as aroused the younger.

“Maybe you should rest a little longer.”

Connor was never more relieved that he had the day off from reporting into the precinct.

“That’s… unfair, Markus.”

“What is?”

“I came here fully intending to take care of _you_ , and here we are… _again_.”

Confusion matted the older’s features, lip pulling upward in an incredulous smile. “I’m not the one who’s bleeding, Connor.”

“That’s not—you know what I mean.”

He was still so child-like in his deviancy, continuously learning so much, but having had come such a long way from what he had been.

“Stop. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You do more than you know.” He gave a soft chuckle. “Now will you listen to me and relax for a while?”

The RK800 model slowly blinked, a slight frown appearing. “What are you going to do?”

“Watch over you. Obviously.”

Connor tugged on the other’s wrist, pulling him down with him onto the mattress, winding an arm securely around him. “Then you can join me.”

Smile lingered on Markus’ lips. He watched as the younger allowed his eyes to close, letting himself fade back into a low-powered stasis. Natural pout formed as he held him tightly within his grip.

Artificial skin had drawn back to reveal ivory; remaining connected with him throughout his simulated slumber. However, he was startled when an image of a woman flashed through the link. He instantly recognized her as the programming that Connor had spoken horrifically of, only knowing her referred to as ‘Amanda’.

His grip tightened on his lover, beginning to sense the attempt to override his deviancy, his freedom.

Thirium pump regulator was overstraining now as his heartbeat spiked, one of his hands moving to press against the younger’s cheek.

“Connor. Connor, wake up.”


End file.
